Doppelganger
by silvaaeterna
Summary: Matt wasn't happy to see them, but he wasn't particularly surprised either – he'd been seeing these omens for years, after all. The only thing that really caught him off guard was seeing two at the same time. Oneshot.


**Summary:** Matt wasn't happy to see them, but he wasn't particularly surprised either – he'd been seeing these omens for years, after all. The only thing that really caught him off guard was seeing two at the same time. Oneshot.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nothing I say!

**A/N:** I've developed a sudden obsession with doppelgangers, and am in quite a strange mood, hence... this weird thing. Matt's superstitious side is srs bizniz, peoples. :o

***

**Doppelganger  
**

The red sports car skidded and spun to a stop in the middle of the intersection, and that's when he saw them.

He certainly wasn't happy to see them here, but he wasn't particularly surprised either. The danger had been present since the minute he had finally reunited with Mello; the threat of death was a constant companion to them both.

No, the only thing that caught him off guard was seeing _two _at the same time.

They were just kids, perhaps ten years old. A couple of boys out roaming the streets, surely without permission, probably just seeking a few thrills and taking whatever the Tokyo nightlife had to offer minors. They stood alone on the corner, the blonde one shaking in excitement and pointing at his car, the redhead looking around in wonder at the flurry of black sedans that had showed up to block his route. He didn't blame them; he and Mello would have acted just the same at that age if they had witnessed the end of such a car chase.

He had been about their age, he recalled, the first time he ever saw one. It was toward the end of winter, when he and Mello had snuck away from the House to go ice skating. On their way to the park, they passed a freckled, red-haired boy with thick glasses heading the other way down the road; he remembered Mello remarking how similar the boy looked to him. Not half an hour later, Matt fell through a patch of thin ice and into the cold water of the lake, and Mello had to jump in himself to fish him out.

A year later, he had been sitting under one of the big oaks in the yard with his Gameboy when a long-haired blonde boy walked past the gates of the orphanage. He held a stick loosely out against the bars, making the wrought iron sing with every step he took, until the stick broke. As the boy tossed the remaining half of the stick away, Matt heard yelling from inside the House. He shut off his game and ran inside to investigate. He found Mello lying on the floor, spitting out fouler words than a child his age should know. He had fallen down the last flight of stairs and broken his leg.

When he was older and living in America, another teenager had sat across from him on a city bus. He had messy brown hair, and wore a pair of goggles almost exactly like Matt's over his eyes. He had tried to smile at him, maybe strike up a conversation, but the boy was too concerned with playing his handheld to notice. Not long after Matt had gotten off at his stop, he became distracted reading a billboard. Not paying attention to where he was walking, he tripped over some broken pavement and injured his knee. He had to wear a leg brace for several weeks afterward.

Most recently, he had met a punky blonde teenager, his hair long and uneven, behind the dumpster of Matt's apartment building. He had snarled at Matt, who had only come to toss out his garbage, as he seemed to think he would rat him out for smoking. Hours later, Mello showed up at his doorstep, his hair singed and ragged and with angry red burns covering half his body. He had looked more defiant than ever, even as he collapsed into Matt's arms and passed out.

It was different this time, though. This omen didn't apply to only one of them, but was a warning for them both.

It could only mean one thing – they shared the same destiny now.

He climbed out of the car, holding his hands up in the air. There were more of Takada's guards here than he could count, and all aiming their guns right at him. He attempted to reason with them, but he knew already that it was hopeless. He was about to die, and Mello, no matter how far away he may have gotten by now, was going to die too.

The intersection was filled with deafening gunfire, the shots striking the red car and echoing off the buildings, amassing a sick sort of chorus. The cacophony lasted only seconds before fading into a hollow silence, and in the center of the urban stage, a single body slumped to the ground.

The guards returned to their black cars and sped away, squealing tires nearly drowning out the sobs of the two frightened children on the sidewalk.


End file.
